The Champion of Garathorm

by Michael Moorcock

  Ymryl had guessed what would follow. She would have been so full of self-disgust that she would have agreed to any de­mands he made on her. She knew that she would have given herself up to him then, almost gratefully, as a means of atoning for her guilt. She drew a hissing breath as she recalled her feel­ings. Well, at least she had denied Ymryl the fulfilment of his scheme.

  Small comfort, thought Ilian cynically. But she would have felt no better now if she had lain with Ymryl. It would not have absolved her, it would only have indulged her own sense of hysteria at the time. She could never satisfy her own con­science, for all her friends did not blame her for what she had done, but at least she could use the hatred she felt to good effect. She was determined to destroy Ymryl and all his fel­lows, even though she was sure such an action would result in her own destruction. That was what she wanted. She would not die before Ymryl was slain.

  'We must accept the possibility that your countrymen will not reveal themselves to us,' Katinka van Bak said. 'Those who still fight Ymryl will have become wary, suspecting treachery from anyone.'

  'And particularly from me,' said Ilian bitterly.

  'They might not know of your brother's capture,' said Jhary. 'Or at least they might not know of the circumstances which led to his capture...' But the suggestion sounded weak in his own ears.

  'Ymryl will have made sure all your folk -will know what you did,' Katinka van Bak said. 'It would be what I would do in his position. And you can be certain that he would have had the worst interpretation put upon the facts. With the last of their hereditary rulers proven a traitress, their morale will de­cline and they will cause Ymryl far less trouble. I have taken cities in my time. And so, doubtless, has Ymryl taken others before Virinthorm. If he could not use you one way, Ilian, he would have used you another!'

  'Any interpretation put upon my treachery could be no worse than the truth, Katinka van Bak,' said Ilian of Virin­thorm.

  The older woman said nothing to this. She merely pursed her lips and clapped her heels to the flanks of her horse, riding on ahead.

  For the best part of the day they pressed through the tangled forest. And the deeper they went, the darker it became - a cool, green, restful darkness, full of heady scents. They were to the north east of Virinthorm and riding away from the city rather than towards it. Katinka van Bak had a feeling she knew where she might find some of the surviving Garathormians.

  And at last they entered a warm, sunlit glade, blinking pain­fully in the bright light, and Katinka van Bak pointed to the other side of the glade.

  Ilian saw dark shapes beneath the trees. Jagged shapes. And she remembered.

  'Of course,' she said. 'Tikaxil! Ymryl knows nothing of the old city.'

  Tikaxil had existed long before Virinthorm. It had once been a thriving trading city, home of Ilian's ancestors. A walled city. The walls had been made of huge blocks of hardwood, each block placed upon the other. Most of those blocks had disappeared now, or rotted into nothing, but a few fragments of the ramparts remained. And there were one or two ebony houses which, for all they were thickly wound about with creepers and low branches, were almost as good as when they had been built.

  In the middle of the glade the three stopped and dismounted, looking warily around them. Overhead massive tree branches waved and mottled shadows skipped across the grass.

  Ilian kept seeing the moving shadows as figures. It was pos­sible that Ymryl's men and not her own folk were camped here - if anyone was camped here at all. She kept her hand near the oddly familiar flame-lance, ready to meet an attack.

  Katinka van Bak spoke clearly.

  'If you are friends of ours you will recognise us. You will know that we come to ally ourselves with you against Ymryl.'

  'The place is deserted,' said Jhary-a-Conel, dismounted from his yellow nag and looking about him. 'But it will make a good place to camp tonight.'

  'See - this is your queen, Ilian, Pyran's daughter. Remember how she bore the burning banner into battle with Ymryl's army? And I am Katinka van Bak, also known to you as Ymryl's enemy. This is Jhary-a-Conel. Without his help, your queen would not be here now.'

  'You speak to birds and squirrels, Katinka van Bak,' said Jhary-a-Conel. 'There are none here from Garathorm.'

  He had not finished this sentence before the nets swept down and engulfed them. It was a tribute to the training of each of them that they did not struggle but calmly attempted to draw their swords, to cut their way free. But Katinka and Ilian were still mounted. Ilian tried to slash her way clear, but her horse kept rearing and whinnying in fear. Only Jhary was unmoun­ted and he managed to crawl under the edge of the net and be ready with his sword as a score of men and women, all armed, came rushing at them from behind the ruined ramparts.

  Ilian's arms became increasingly entangled in the tough fibres of the net and, as she struggled, she found herself slipping from the saddle and falling to the ground.

  She felt someone kick her in the stomach. She gasped in pain, hearing someone snarling insults at her, though she could not make out the words.

  Katinka van Bak had misjudged the situation, obviously. These folk were not friends.

  4

  A Pact Is Made

  "You are fools!' said Katinka van Bak contemptuously. 'You do not deserve the chance we offer. Ymryl's plans are well suited by your actions. Do you not realise that you are doing exactly what he would want you to do?"

  'Silence!' The young man with the scar along his jaw glared at her.

  Ilian raised her head, feebly shaking it to free the strands of hair which clung to the sweat on her face. 'Why reason with them, Katinka? They are right from their point of view.'

  They had been hanging by their arms for the best part of three days, being released only to eat and relieve themselves. For all the pain involved, it was nothing compared with what Ilian had suffered in Ymryl's dungeons. She was hardly aware of the discomfort. And their captors had concentrated most of their spleen on her. She had received several kicks since the first. She had been spat upon, slapped, reviled. It meant nothing to her. It was her due, that was all.

  'They'll destroy themselves if they destroy us,' said Jhary-a-Conel quietly. He, too, seemed hardly to notice the pain. He seemed to have been sleeping through most of their ordeal. His black and white cat had vanished.

  The young man looked from Ilian to Katinka to Jhary. "We are doomed anyway,' he said. 'It will not be long before Ymryl's hounds sniff us out.'

  'That is my point,' said Katinka van Bak.

  Ilian looked across the ruins of the old city. Attracted by the sound of voices the others were coming over to the tree where the three prisoners hung. Ilian recognised many of the faces. These were the young people with whom she had spent so much time in the old days. These were the trained fighters, those who had resisted Ymryl longest, as well as a few citizens who had either managed to escape from Virinthorm or who had not been near the city when Ymryl had captured it. And there was not one there who did not hate her with that hatred that only comes from those who have admired someone and then discovered that person to be despicable.

  'There is not one here who would not have given the infor­mation Ilian gave Ymryl,' said Katinka. 'You must know little of life if you do not understand that. You are still soft, you fighters. You are not realistic. We are the only chance you have of fighting Ymryl and winning. To misuse us so is to misuse your assets. Forget your hatred of Ilian - at least until we have fought Ymryl. You have insufficient resources, my friends, to discard the best!'

  The young man with the scar was called Mysenal of Hinn and he was a distant relative of Ilian's. Once, Ilian knew, he had had an infatuation for her, as had many other young men of the court. Mysenal frowned. 'Your words are sensible, Katin­ka van Bak, and you have advised us well in the past. But how do we know that these sensible words are not being used to de­ceive us. For all we know you've made some bargain with Ym­ryl to deliver us into his hands."

  'You must re
member that I am Katinka van Bak. I would not do such a thing.'

  'Queen Ilian betrayed her own brother,' Mysenal reminded Katinka.

  Ilian closed her eyes. Now there was pain, but not from the ropes which chafed her wrists.

  'Under abominable torture,' Katinka pointed out impatient­ly. 'Just as, perhaps, I would have done. Have you any notion of Ymryl's skills in that quarter?'

  'Some,' Mysenal admitted. 'Yet...'

  'And why, if we were in league with Ymryl, would we come here alone? If we knew where you camped, we had merely to tell him. He could have sent a force to destroy you and caught you by surprise ...'

  'Not by surprise. There are guards in the high branches for more than a mile in all directions. We should have known and we should have fled. We knew you were coming and had time to prepare for you, had we not?'

  'True. But my point is still valid.'

  Mysenal of Hinn sighed. 'Some of us would rather have ven­geance on this traitress than fight Ymryl. Some of us feel we should try to make a life for ourselves here, in the hope that Ymryl will forget us.'

  'He will not. He is bored. It will please him, soon, to hunt you down himself. You are only tolerated at present because he thought that those who conquered the west were readying themselves to attack Virinthorm. Thus he kept most of his forces in the city. But now he knows that the west does not immediately prepare to march. He will be reminded of you.'

  'The invaders quarrel amongst themselves?' Mysenal's voice became interested. 'They fight each other?"

  'Not yet. But it is inevitable. I see you realise the implications of that. It is what we came to tell you, among other things.'

  'If they fall upon each other, then we have a better chance of striking effectively at those who took Virinthorm!' Mysenal rubbed at his scar. 'Aye.' Then he frowned again. 'But this in­formation could be part of your ruse to deceive us ..."

  'It is a complicated interpretation, I'll give you that,' said Jhary-a-Conel wearily. 'Why not accept that we came to join with you against Ymryl. It is the most likely explanation.'

  'I believe them.' It was a girl who spoke. Ilian's old friend Lyfeth, who had been her brother's lover.

  Lyfeth's words carried weight with the others. After all, Ly­feth had most to hate Ilian for.

  'I think we should cut them down, for a while at least. We should listen to everything they have to say. Katinka van Bak is responsible for us being able to put up at least a little resist­ance to Ymryl, remember that. And we have no grudge against the other fellow, Jhary-a-Conel, at all. Also it could be that -that Ilian -' Lyfeth plainly found it hard even to speak Ilian's name - 'would make amends for her treachery. I cannot say that I would not have betrayed Bradne if subjected to the tor­tures Katinka van Bak has described. I knew her once as a friend. I thought highly of her, as did we all. She fought well in her father's stead. Yes, I think I am prepared to trust her, with a certain amount of caution.'

  Lyfeth advanced to where Ilian hung.

  Ilian dropped her head and closed her eyes again, unable to look into Lyfeth's face.

  But Lyfeth stretched out a hard hand and grasped Ilian un­der the chin, harshly forcing her head up.

  Ilian opened her eyes and tried to stare back at Lyfeth. Ly­feth's own eyes were enigmatic. There was hatred there, but also sympathy.

  'Hate me, Lyfeth of Ghant,' said Ilian, for Lyfeth's ears only. 'You need do no more. But listen to me, also, for I do not come to betray you.'

  Lyfeth bit her lower lip. Once she had been beautiful - more beautiful than Ilian - but now her face had hardened and her skin was pale, rough. Her hair had been cut short, to the nape of her neck. She wore no ornament. Her patched smock was green, to blend with the foliage, and belted at the waist with a broad, woven belt, at which hung her sword and dagger. Her legs were bare and she wore tough-soled sandals on her feet. Her garb was no different from that worn by most here. With her chain-mail jerkin and leggings, Ilian felt almost over­dressed.

  'Whether you came to betray us or not this time, that's not important,' said Lyfeth. 'For there would still be every reason to punish you for Bradne's death. An uncivilised opinion, I know, Ilian. But I feel it strongly. However, if you have the means of defeating Ymryl, then we should listen to you. Katinka van Bak's reasoning is good.' Lyfeth turned away, letting Ilian's head drop again. 'Cut them down!'

  'The Yellow Horn will soon make plans to attack the west," said Jhary-a-Conel. His cat had returned to his shoulder and he stroked it absently as he told Mysenal and the others of all he had discovered through its help. 'Who rules in the west now, do you know?'

  'One called Kagat Bearclaw had the cities of Bekthorm and Rivensz under his sway," said Lyfeth, "but more recent news suggests that he was murdered by a rival and that two or three rule there now, among them one called Arnald of Grovent, who has little resemblance to a man, but is blessed with the body of a lion and the face of an ape, though he walks on two legs.'

  'A Chaos creature,' mused Jhary-a-Conel. 'There are so many here. It is as if Garathorm has become a world to which all those who serve Chaos are banished! An unpleasant thought.'

  There had been two other large cities in the west, Ilian re­called. 'What of Poytarn and Masgha?' she asked.

  Mysenal looked surprised. 'You have not heard. A vast ex­plosion destroyed Masgha - and destroyed all those within it. It was nought to do with those who resist the conquerors, by all accounts. They destroyed themselves, by accident. Some sorcerous experiment, no doubt.'

  'And Poytarn?'

  'Looted, razed and abandoned. Those who did it rode to the coast, doubtless hoping to find other rich pickings. They'll be disappointed. The sea villages would be deserted. Those who lived on the coast were the luckiest of us. Many were able to put to sea and escape to distant islands before the invaders found them. The invaders have no ships and thus could not pursue them. I hope they fare well. We would attempt to follow them, if there were any ships left.'

  'They have made counter-attacks?'

  'Not yet,' said Lyfeth. 'Soon, we hope.'

  'Or not at all,' said someone else. 'They probably have enough sense to bide their time - or merely forget the problems of the mainland.'

  'Still, they are potential allies," said Katinka van Bak. 'I had not realised so many had escaped.'

  'But we cannot contact them," Lyfeth pointed out patiently. 'No ships.'

  'There might be other means devised. But we must consider that later.'

  Ilian said: 'It seems to me that Ymryl places much faith in that yellow horn he wears ever about his neck. If that could be stolen from him or destroyed by some means, it would weak­en his confidence. Perhaps he even draws his power from the horn, as he believes. If so, there would be even more reason to part him from it.'

  'A good thought,' said Mysenal. 'But hard to accomplish. Would you not say so, Katinka van Bak?'

  Katinka nodded. 'However, it is an important factor, and something we must continue to consider.' She sniffed and rub­bed at her nose. 'The first thing we need are some better weap­ons that these. Something a little more modern, in my terms. Flame-lances and the like. If each of us was armed with a flame-lance, we should immediately triple our striking power. How many are here, Lyfeth?'

  'Fifty-three.'

  'So we need fifty-four good weapons - the extra one being for Jhary here, who has weapons as primitive as yours. Weap­ons which depend upon a power source...'

  ‘I follow your reasoning,' Jhary said. 'You see a certain ex­penditure of resources by Ymryl and the other, when they even­tually do war on each other. If we are then in possession of weapons like flame-lances, we shall have a considerable advan­tage, no matter how small our numbers.'

  'Exactly. But the problem is how to capture such a large supply, eh?'

  'It could mean a visit to Garathorm itself,' said Ilian. She stood up, stretching her bruised muscles and wincing. She had stripped off her chain armour and was now dressed in a green smock like the others. She h
ad made every effort to show her ex-friends that she wished to be accepted as one of them. 'For that is where we should find such weapons.'

  'And death,' said Lyfeth. 'We should find death there, too.'

  'We should have to disguise ourselves.' Katinka van Bak stro­ked her lips.

  'Better,' said Jhary-a-Conel, 'we should bring the weapons to us.'

  'What do you mean?' Ilian asked him.

  5

  The Raid On Virinthorm

  There were eight.

  Ilian was in the fore. She was dressed again in her shining chain armour, with her helmet on her golden hair, a slender sword in her gauntleted hand.

  She led the remaining seven along the wide branches of the trees, balancing expertly, for she had trodden the tree-roads since she was a child.

  Virinthorm was ahead.

  Slung on her back was one of their two flame-lances. The other was back at the camp, with Katinka van Bak.

  Ilian paused as they reached the outskirts of Virinthorm and could see the city's conquerors moving about in the streets.

  Virinhorm had, over the months, become a series of smaller townships. Each township attracted groups or races of men or other creatures to it, so that those from similar eras or similar worlds or those who resembled each other physically would band together.

  The township on which Ilian and her small band now spied was one which they had selected specially. It was made up main­ly of folk who resembled mankind in many ways and yet who were not men.

  The features of these people - who were drawn from many spheres and eras - were familiar to Ilian. Indeed, now that she looked upon them, she had a great reluctance to put her plan into action. They were tall and slender, with slanting, almond eyes, ears which came almost to points. While the eyes of some of them were like those of ordinary men, others had eyes that were purple and yellow, others had eyes that were flecks of blue and silver which sparkled constantly. They seemed a proud and intelligent people and were plainly given to avoiding most of their fellows. Yet Ilian also knew that these could be cruellest of all the invaders.